Ranger
by TheRealConsiglia
Summary: Follow Jorall Wood-Strider, leader of the Falkreath Rangers, in his adventures across the hold. One day he may be questioning a hunter about his permit, the next he could be fighting off a deadly Bandit Raid. When something sinister awakens, Jorall and his Rangers must fight not only for their lives, but for all of Skyrim.
1. Chapter 1

4E 215

The tall, creaky Pine trees swayed in the light breeze. A few wispy clouds made their way across the bright blue sky and as usual, the forest was buzzing with the sounds of birds and insects. Occasionally, the calls of larger animals could be heard over the low hum of the woods.

It was a perfectly ordinary day in Falkreath.

Jorall Wood-Strider walked confidently along the cobbled road. The moss covered stones made his light footsteps almost silent. He was a broad shouldered Nord of34, although his auburn hair had not yet begun to grey. Jorall was taller than most of his kinsmen, and was very well built. He would have to be, in his job.

A keen, strong axe hung at his side, it's steel head ready to clear any obstruction, be it low hanging branches, bracken, or something more sinister. Steel -tipped arrows rolled slightly in the quiver on Jorall's back, alongside the pinewood bow that had served him so well.

Jorall was a Falkreath Ranger. His profession was somewhere between that of a hold guard, a warden and a hunter. The job involved patrolling and policing the hold; Though Jorall was far further ranging than a town guard. His patrols could take him anywhere in Falkreath; the lake shore, the forest, down deep caves or up the slopes of lofty mountains. It was by no means a boring job.

There was little in the hold that posed much of a threat to Jorall, his combined cunning, prowess and strength would easily handle most situations. Jorall required backup on only the most perilous of assignments. He was far from the invincible Dragonborn of old, but he was still alive after all, and he thought that could only be testament to his proficiency and skill.

If the Jarl needed something done (and done well) in his hold, the Ranger would be the ones to do it. Although they were relatively few in number, (there were seven of them) they never shied away from any task. Indeed, so renowned were they for their courage and determination, that the Jarl of Whiterun paid three-thousand Septims a month to Falkreath in exchange for a weekly inspection of his holds more rugged areas.

Jorall stopped in a small clearing as few hundred metres from the roadside; it was lunchtime. He sat down on a stump, rummaged in his pack, and brought out a chunk of bread and a cooked chicken breast. As he ate, he thought about his route around the hold; he still hard a sizeable area to cover before nightfall.

In general, Jorall liked his job. It paid well, kept him in good shape, and it was almost never boring. As an unmarried man, Jorall had little interest in sitting around the house all day. He much preferred his active, busy lifestyle. To say he worked extra hours would be an understatement, in fact.

He had always liked Falkreath's woodland, ever since he was a boy, growing up in the hold. Something about them just felt… right to him. He liked the sounds and smells of the forest, and this was one of the reasons he worked so much.

Jorall had joined the Ranger when he was 19. His father had died when he was 18, and Jorall several months out to travel around Skyrim, to "See the the land he lived in" as he put it. When he returned to Falkreath, almost a year later, the men in the tavern were much impressed by the stories of his travels. Within days, word reached the ears of the Jarl's Steward, and she summoned him to the Jarl's Longhouse a few days later. After making sure the tales were true, she asked if he would be interested in joining the recently formed Falkreath Rangers. Jorall was sceptical at first, but after discussing what the job actually entailed, his attitude towards it changed, and he enthusiastically agreed. He was inducted a week later, issued with his armour and axe.

A special ceremony was performed in the Ranger Station, where Jorall was presented with his Pine Ranger's bow. These were presented to all Rangers when they joined. The bows were all made from the wood of one enormous pine tree, deep in the Falkreath Forest.

Two years later, after proving himself to be an excellent Ranger, Jorall was promoted to second in command, under his friend and mentor, Erdvir Swift-Arm. Immensely proud to have reached this position, Jorall re-doubled his efforts, and eleven years of hard work and determination later, Jorall became Head Ranger when Erdvir retired. The last two years had been the best the Rangers had ever had; more positive feedback came in, crime levels reduced by some percentage, and the hold was, in general, a very safe place.

Although he was in charge of the Rangers (Under the Jarl, of course), Jorall rarely barked out orders. He was liked and respected by his colleagues, and by the Holdspeople in general. He was well known for his bravery, endurance and experience; but also his kindness, intelligence and understanding nature.

After he had finished his meal, Jorall stood, adjusted his light armour, and set off back toward the road. Time was marching on, and the hold wasn't going to patrol itself.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II

The door swung open silently and Jorall stepped inside. He could hear somebody shuffling around in the next room. When the front door closed behind Jorall, the shuffling stopped and a slim Redguard man stepped into the entrance hall from the larger room further in.

"Ah, boss!" he exclaimed, "You're back. Good." He was genuinely pleased to see his Head Ranger, as he had a question for him.

"Yes, I'm back, Cyrus. Did you think I was just going to go straight to the tavern without coming in to see my Redguard friend?" said Jorall, "And…I had to make sure you weren't slacking off at the end of the day." Jorall knew Cyrus was a hard worker, but he liked to tease him. All the Rangers did.

Cyrus Elk-Stalker was the youngest Ranger by far, at only twenty years old. Also, he was the only Ranger who was not a Nord; the others did not care in the slightest that he was Redguard, but they sometimes joked about it, asking where he left his curved sword. Cyrus did not take these jokes to heart, and they were not meant to offend him, anyway. The Rangers shared an immense sense of comradeship and would never truly aim to hurt each other, mentally or physically .In fact, the other praised him in equal amounts to mocking him; He was easily the most proficient hunter among them. Deer just never seemed to hear him coming.

"So, boss," asked Cyrus "Anything interesting today?"

"Not really…In fact, today was almost boring"

Cyrus raised his eyebrows. Jorall almost never said that.

"I met that hunter out near Helgen, Andir he calls himself. You've probably seen him yourself; he has little cabin near there."

The Redguard nodded "I think I have actually. Small fellow, has a bit of a limp? Talks like he's about a hundred years old?"

"Aye, that's him. And I checked his permit; He's only fifty-three." Said Jorall, with a wink.

"Anyway, I spoke to him for a while. Says he sometimes hears footsteps outside his house, late at night. But when he goes out there's nothing there."

"Well, I mean, this part of Skyrim is full of deer, and bears and all sorts of big animals. Surely a hunter would know that"

"Actually, I did suggest it could have been an animal. But he seemed very convinced it wasn't. Said he heard voices."

"Hmm. Would you like me to send someone to speak to him in depth tomorrow?" Cyrus mused.

Jorall thought for a second. "That depends. Who's doing what tomorrow?"

"Let me check" Cyrus, pulling out a small chart from under the desk he was standing beside. He laid it out on the desk and ran his finger along to the next day's date "Alright, Tomorrow. Myself, Thormir and Kjeld are on patrol, Arnskar and you are minding the station, it's Nels' day off and the Jarl's sent Rona to check something out near the Reach."

"The Jarl gave her an assignment directly?" Cried Jorall. This was strange; the Jarl usually briefed him, and then Jorall would decide who was going and when.

"Yeah, he only told her this afternoon, and you were out. He had nobody to spare to come looking for you, so he send his steward over. Rona's gone home to prepare, she's leaving in the morning."

"Well, alright then. I'll forgive the Jarl this time." Said Jorall with another cheeky wink. " But, back to the matter in hand. Hmm, so you, Thormir and Kjeld are on patrol? Alright, in the morning I'll tell Kjeld to make sure he pays a visit to old Andir. Do you know where he is now?"

At this moment, Cyrus and Jorall heard a door open, further into the building and a tall, thin man wandered into the entrance hall.

Thormir Steel-Head (So named because of the outrageous number of head injuries he sustained) was an absent minded man of twenty-nine, who had joined the Rangers because his mother told him to. That was not to say he did not like his job; quite the opposite was true. But his mother would probably been better suited to the Rangers than her son. She once ran into the Station, shouting after Thormir that he had forgotten to make his bed. He was absent from that mornings briefing, as his mother refused to let him go until he had tidied his room.

"Thormir! Good evening, friend!" exclaimed Jorall.

"Good evening to you, too. Cyrus, why didn't you tell me Jorall was back?"

"We were having a conversation, Thormir, something you can't do without your mother's help." laughed the Redguard. Thormir sighed, then laughed when he realised Cyrus was joking.

"And anyway, you didn't care when Nels and Arnskar came in, so don't start your nonsense. And you say Jorall this morning same as everyone else"

"You're just jealous because I'm the Head Ranger's favourite" said Thormir, in a childish, sing-song voice.

"Whatever," smiled Jorall. Thormir wasn't the brightest, but nonetheless he was a good ranger." So, Cyrus. As I was saying, do you know where Kjeld is now?"

"He and Arnskar said they were heading to the tavern when they reported back, and that was about half an hour ago."

It was around seven O'clock now, and starting to get dark. "Well boys, let's lock up and go join them." Cyrus and Thormir nodded in agreement. The men closed the internal door and windows, before filing out the front door into the warm night air. All of the Rangers had front door keys to the Station, but only Jorall had keys to everything. He used his key to lock the door behind them, and they began the short walk from the station just outside town, to the Tavern.

"What were you doing back there anyway?" Jorall asked Thormir.

"Tidying up the store and the armoury." replied Thormir.

"Umm… Did you ask Nels' permission to do that?" Cyrus asked, tentatively

"No, I only started after he left."

"Ooohhh" howled the other men, in unison. "He'll have you for breakfast if he can't find anything." laughed Jorall. Nels was the head of the storerooms, and didn't take too kindly to his things being rearranged.

The trio arrived, laughing, at the Tavern, and headed inside. The fire was in full swing, and the usual bard played softly in the corner. Arnskar and Kjeld were already seated at the Rangers usual large, long table by the fire. They saw their colleagues enter, and loudly waved them over with their tankards. Cyrus, Thormir and Jorall sat down at the table.

"Hello gentlemen!" boomed Arnskar Thunder-Axe. He was man of tremendous stature, standing taller wider and heavier than all the other Rangers. His great size was matched only by his jolliness and mirth, and his great beard did little to hide his often laughing mouth. Arnskar was Jorall's second in command, the Deputy Head-Ranger. He was also the only Ranger to wield, instead of a hand-axe and a bow, an enormous battle-axe that he had named Hilda, after his wife. He still had his Rangers Bow of course, but it was rarely used.

"Hello Arnskar, you big drunken bear." Grinned Jorall. It was clear that Arnskar had had several Tankards already.

"Hey! I'm not that drunk… Yet!" Arnskar laughed heartily, and called for the Barmaid to come over.

Jorall looked at Kjeld, who was engaged in conversation with Cyrus. Jorall opened his mouth to attract Kjeld's attention, but was interrupted by the bar wench asking "Anything to drink sirs?" Jorall ordered a tankard of ale, and one for the other men as well. When the wench went to fetch the drinks, Jorall tapped Kjeld on the arm.

" Yes, head? What can I do for you?" asked Kjeld, in his normal, playfully sarcastic way

Jorall explained what he wanted Kjeld to do, at some point the next day. Kjeld nodded and said "I think I know this Andir fellow. Came across him a while back. He smells a bit odd, doesn't he?"

"Come to think of it, he does a bit." Jorall smiled, "But anyway, you'll go and talk to him, see what's happening?"

"It would be my pleasure" hissed Kjeld.

"Thanks. And a bit less of the sarcasm, if you don't mind!" joked Jorall. He knew Kjeld always meant well, even if he sounded almost serpentine at times.

The Rangers, after drinking a few more tankards, left the Tavern together at around eleven. Thormir turned left outside the Tavern, towards his house, shouting "See you in the Morning!" over his shoulder. The other men all headed in the opposite direction, talking merrily and peeling off one by one to get to their respective homes. After about ten minutes walking, only Jorall and Cyrus remained on the road. They lived quite near to each other; Jorall on a slight hill by the lakeshore, Cyrus a little way south of that.

Although Jorall lived on his own, Cyrus lived with his Uncle and cousin; His parents still lived in Hammer fell.

They arrived at the final turning towards the lake. "Well Cyrus, I'll see you tomorrow. Tell your Uncle I was asking about him."

"Will do. Night, boss" and with that, Cyrus strode through a patch of trees and out of site. A few minutes later, Jorall arrived at his own house. He turned his key in the lock and entered. He was tired, and went straight to bed. He would worry about tomorrow….tomorrow.

Hope you enjoyed Chapter 2, and thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III**

It was a cold, dark morning. The rain had got progressively heavier since the night before, and now hammered into the large puddles it left with tremendous force. The branches of Falkreath's majestic pine trees dripped and swayed in the wind.

As Jorall arrived at the station, he felt a bit sorry for the boys going on patrol; they would be very wet and very cold. He came to the front door of the station and turned the handle. The door swung open on its well-oiled hinges. "I'm not the first here, then" thought Jorall. He was usually there before anyone else. It was only quarter to six; the others didn't usually rack in until about six thirty.

Jorall stepped into the Entrance hall, shaking water from his hair and his scrubby beard. He hung up his large overcoat on the hooks behind the front desk, and headed into the hallway. He peered into the first door on his right; the briefing room. It was empty, but someone had lit the wall sconces. Jorall withdrew his head, and looked into the room to his left; the kitchen. Inside, Arnskar stood at the cooking fire, stirring away at a pot. He looked up as Jorall stepped into the room.

"Morning Jorall" He said brightly, his eyes twinkling from beneath his slightly damp eyebrows.

"Morning, Arnskar. A bit wet I see"

"I could say the same to you, friend! 'Tis a horrid day, but at least you and I get to stay inside." Said Arnskar. He was always very optimistic, something that Jorall liked about him.

"That's very true. What are you cooking there?" Jorall (And most of the Rangers) had breakfast just before the daily briefing. Jorall and Arnskar would have lunch and dinner there as well, today. There were on duty at the Station.

"A big pot of nice hot porridge. Should be ready for when everyone else gets here."

Jorall sat down at the dining table in the kitchen, and talked to Arnskar about the weather, and asked how Hilda was. One by One, the other Rangers arrived, and by the time it was twenty past six, Thormir, Kjeld and Cyrus had arrived. Nels had today off, and Rona was away on business for the Jarl. Arnskar served them all steaming bowls off porridge, which they all accepted gladly on such a cold, miserable day. By the time they had all finished it was almost half past six, so Jorall sent them into the briefing room, down the hall.

The Rangers filed in and took their seats. Jorall walked past them, to the front of the room, where there was a map of Falkreath Hold on the wall. He turned to face them, saying "Morning Rangers."

They mumbled a general reply, and Jorall continued. "Alright, I'll keep this as brief as I can. On patrol today… Kjeld, Cyrus and Thormir. Cyrus, anything you want to do other than that?"

Cyrus thought for a moment before saying, " I heard old Lod talking outside. He was saying… that he's seen a Khajiit wandering around just outside town…" Cyrus didn't finish his sentence, merely raising his eyebrows at Jorall.

Jorall scratched his chin, and replied "If you see anyone like that, you know how to deal with their sort. Otherwise, don't go searching for him. Lod could be talking nonsense. Wouldn't be the first time." Cyrus nodded.

"Alright, Thormir," Said Jorall " Have you anything to add to your patrol order?"

"No….I don't think so."

"Good. Just business as usual for you then."

Jorall looked at Kjeld, who shifted uncomfortably "Kjeld, you look worried. Is something wrong?"

"Ahh. No, no" Kjeld did not look Jorall in the eye, and sounded shaky, both of which were very uncharacteristic of him.

"Hmm… You don't sound so sure. But anyway, you know what you're doing today? Going to speak to Andir, up near Helgen?" Jorall pointed to a point just south of Helgen, on the map.

"Yes, I… I'll be there about… I should be there about eleven this morning. Is that alright?"

Jorall waved his hand "Yeah, that's fine. I checked his permit yesterday, and he's always been fine with us before. I don' think there's any harm in him, so if that's what you're worried about, don't be." Kjeld nodded, but remained silent and worried looking. He was a smallish Nord, short but stocky. He was the second oldest of the Rangers, at thirty-six. Only Nels, at thirty-nine outstripped him in years. Kjeld's short hair was starting to grey, and he had got rid of his beard some time ago.

"That's fine then." Said Jorall "Arnskar and I are holding the Station today, so.." he nodded at his Second In Command "Alright you three, go get your armour on and grab your gear. I'll see you all later." With that, the three patrolling Rangers stood, and headed for the armoury. Within ten minutes, they were dressed in their custom, lightweight armour, and fully kitted with weaponry, food and water. They were out the door before seven.

"Well friend, what're we doing with ourselves today?" said Arnskar to Jorall. "The stores got tidied yesterday, and I can't really think of what else we have to do."

Jorall scratched his beard, thinking. "Well, with the weather like this, I don't much fancy going far. Why don't we do a bit of practice until lunchtime, get a bite to eat, then see what needs done after then?"

"Sounds good"

The men headed into the hallway, and right down to the end. Arnskar opened the training room door, and entered. Jorall came in a moment later carrying their bows and axes. "Damn, this thing's heavy!" he said, handing Hilda to Arnskar.

"Hey, she's just right. You're just weak!" Arnskar let out his booming laugh. "I bet I can do more push-ups than you!"

Jorall laid the bows and his axe on the table. "Ha-ha! A challenge, eh? Care to make it interesting? Winner gets the others day off this week?"

"Absolutely! Looks like I'll enjoy Sundas then!" thundered Arnskar.

"We'll see, big man!" with that the men dropped to the floor, their arms pressing like pistons.

xXx

Meanwhile, some distance away, Kjeld was cold and feeling sick. This weather wasn't good for him. "If I could," he thought," I'd retire; move somewhere nice, like Cyrodiil. I'd love to see the Imperial City." He surfaced from his reverie, and quickened his pace. The quicker he could get inside, the better. And the likeliest prospect of a roof lay with visiting Andir.

Kjeld was unsure as to why he felt so ill today. He didn't drink that much the night before, or eaten anything of questionable quality. "Must just be the cold" he muttered to himself. He decided to walk through a dense patch of trees; at least they'd give his some shelter from the pelting rain.

At this rate, Kjeld would be at his goal earlier than he'd estimated; it was only seven thirty, and at his current pace, he would be there at around nine.

xXx

Far to the west of the hold, Rona was having problems of her own, of a much more immediate and dangerous nature than Kjeld's. She had been investigating a suspected Bandit camp for the Jarl. Orders were to see if there actually was one, and to find out numbers if there was.

It had been going well, despite the rain. Rona hadn't encountered anyone on the way there, although she did not always stick to the roads. She had arrived at the place at about seven fifteen, and looked it over from a small hill nearby. It was a collection of three large tents in a small grove, with a campfire and a large chest in the centre of the camp. After several minutes of watching and seeing no movement, Rona crept lightly down the incline and into the camp. The tents were devoid of life, containing only empty bedrolls. In the one on the far left however, there were no bedrolls, just a sturdy table with a diary, several empty mead bottles, and a quill pen on it. Rona picked up the diary and opened it. There was little of interest for several pages; they detailed the owner's journey from Markarth to this location. It had been chosen because of its proximity to a busy trade route. This at least confirmed the suspicions; they were bandits alright. The last entry was the most disturbing. The bandits had intercepted a Khajiit caravan and had stopped the cats. After the Khajiit were relieved of their goods, they were killed on the roadside like animals. The writer of the diary seemed to feel no remorse for this act.

At that moment, Rona heard voices, and they were getting louder. Ducking down behind the table, she angled her head so that she could see out the door of the tent. Three men were approaching, talking and laughing. When they got close enough, Rona could make out what they were saying- "… Yeah, should fetch a decent price, I reckon. Maybe five hundred Septims, maybe six hundred."

The men stopped in the central area, and the one who seemed to be the leader fumbled at his belt. He produced a key, and bent over to unlock the chest. He pulled open the lid, and dropped in a jewelled ring, some finely tailored clothes, and a small, shiny gemstone. Rona considered her options; there was no chance of sneaking past them, and she couldn't sit in this tent for ever. She would have to confront them.

She drew her axe, stepping out of the tent as the leader locked the chest again. The trio jumped, startled, when they saw her. The leader regained his composure quickly however, and looked her up and down. " Who do we have here boys?" he began to walk towards Rona, but she raised her axe slightly, and he stopped.

"I am a Falkreath Ranger. Couldn't you tell by the armour?" She almost smiled at her retort.

"Of course I could girl, I'm not a fool. We've been expecting a visit from someone like you." He pulled off his heavy steel helmet, and regarded Rona cruelly. He was a grizzled man of middle age, and his lank, greasy hair clung to his face with sweat. "So are you going to stand there, or…?" the bandit tailed off.

"Is this your camp?" demanded Rona.

"It is"

"Is that your journal in there?" she jerked her thumb toward the tent with the table.

"No, actually. It's Ynvir here's." he looked at the man to his right "But yes, I was there the whole time. You caught us" said the bandit, with a nasty grin, revealing his rotten teeth.

Rona sighed. "Well it's pointless trying to arrest you, so…"

"Ahh, there's a good girl"

"…so I'll have to kill you!" the smile faded off the man's face as Rona lunged towards him, axe flying. He ducked out of the way, drawing a long, broadsword from his back. Wasting no time, Rona swung at the closest target, Ynvir. Her axe blade slashed across his neck, tearing through his fur overcoat, and deep into the flesh. He collapsed, dying. Rona spun around, only to see the other two charging at her. The other man had drawn a nasty looking mace. The leader reached Rona first, and received a hefty kick in the gut. He stumbled past Rona, who swung her axe at the other bandit. He parried the blow well with his mace, but staggered slightly. Rona raised her axe to bring it down on his head, but the leader grabbed her from behind. She could feel his foul breath on her neck, as the mace wielder came towards her, slower this time.

"Silly girl" he chuckled. This enraged Rona, and he elbowed the chief viciously in the jaw, ducking as she did so. The plan tactic worked perfectly; the other bandit had swung the mace with such power, he couldn't stop himself or divert its course. It's ugly, flanged head crashed down onto the leaders bent lower back, and he cried out, falling to the ground.

Rona brought herself up to a standing stance, the last standing bandit now had his back to her. He was only half turned around when her axe blade sliced into the back of his skull, killing him instantly. Rona dislodged the head and approached the chief, who was the only one left alive. He had managed to flip himself onto his back. He put his handed up to defend himself. "Mercy!" he croaked pathetically. Rona raised her axe, and brought it down swiftly, onto his throat. He didn't even have time to flinch. The axe almost severed his head, sending a spray of blood over Rona's legs.

She cleaned the axe's blade on his cloth trousers, and pulled his key from his belt. Rona made her way to the chest in the middle of the camp. Unlocking it, she opened the lid. Apart from the items the bandit had placed inside moments before, there were several expensive looking necklaces, a few more rings, a couple of gemstones, including a rather nice ruby. She placed these things into her pack, and closed the lid. The owners of these items were surly dead, killed by the bandits. If this was the case, the Rangers were allowed to keep anything scum like these had hoarded. Otherwise, they would be returned to the owner.

Rona start d to head east, towards home. She was tired already, and was not even noon.

xXx

Kjeld felt even worse now, but he couldn't just stop. He had to press on. There was only one more steep incline, then he'd be in the clearing where that blasted hunter dwelled.

He reached the top of the hill, and shook some water from his armour. The small cottage sat there, about a hundred metres from Kjeld. He started towards it, with a sigh. "I always get the fun jobs..." he muttered. Then he stopped in his tracks. The front door was ajar, and the window was cracked.

Something was very wrong….

Thanks for reading! Sorry about the wait, I was busy with some things. Future chapters should be uploaded quicker.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV**

Kjeld crept towards the small house. It's shattered windows were lightless, and the door lay slightly ajar. Something was terribly wrong in the house of the Hunter.

He approached the door, and pressed his ear to it, straining to heart anything of the cacophonous rainfall. Nothing. With a sigh he pushed on the door, but it moved only slightly. He tried again, and it didn't open fully, still. Kjeld stepped back and gave the wooden door a mighty kick. It flew open, sending the chair that had been blocking it skittering across the floor.

Kjeld stood there, mouth open, staring into the house. The sight that greeted him was a gruesome one.

The small, one bedroom dwelling was wrecked. The table had been upended, it's chairs lying in various positions around it. The windows had all been smashed, save for one, and their broken shards littered the floor. The large stack of shelves had toppled over, spilling their assorted contents. But by far the worst was the blood. Large splatters covered two of the walls, and pools lay on parts of the floor. In the pool farthest from the door lay the body of an older man, dressed simply in nightclothes. He was lying face down in the blood, and there were three or four long gashes down his back. There were several deep wounds on the back of his head, and one on the side.

Kjeld had seen death many times before, but this may have been the worst. Even bandits didn't leave their victims like this. He stepped into the house, and towards the body. Crouching down, he could now see the side of the face. It was Andir. "Oh no" sighed Kjeld.

There was no time to investigate the house right now. From the look of the blood, and the clothes Andir was wearing, it must have happened last night. "Yeah," thought Kjeld "Jorall met him yesterday." He sighed again and stood up. He walked out of the blood-splattered house, closing the door behind him. He set off towards the station at a jog; He had to tell the other Rangers.

**XxX**

Jorall and Arnskar decided, after some minutes, that there push up competition was a draw. The men sat down, panting, in the chairs at the side of the room.

"Not bad, Jorall, not bad at all" said Arnskar with a grin.

"Oh, why thank you, deputy" said Jorall, sarcastically.

After talking for a few minutes, the men stood up and walked into Jorall's office. There he had a great desk, on which papers and ink well with a quill sat perpetually. On the wall to the left there was a large map of Skyrim, with the larger settlements marked on it. Jorall had made many additions of his own, in ink.

Against the wall behind Jorall's desk, sat two large chests, both locked. One contained the Rangers funds. These came from the Jarl, not from what the Rangers picked up. The Jarl's steward came by once a week to make a new deposit. Most of this was the Ranger's pay, and the rest would be kept in the chest, for maintenance, food, services and things like that. This chest contained mostly Septim coins (Around 33000, in fact) and a few precious stones and gold ingots.

Rangers were not rich individually, each of them earning around 15000 Septims a year, plus whatever they took from bandits and the like. This was plenty for the Rangers; they could always put food on the table. As well as this, The Jarl didn't charge them for renting the land where their houses stood, which was an added boon.

The other chest contained confiscated goods and lost property, which were often one and the same. It was skooma was kept (Before being disposed off) when it was taken from a suspect Argonian, where an expensive looking locket, found on the road was kept until an owner could be found.

Finally, the tall cupboard to the right contained several stacks of paper, and a few quills and ink. Above those sat six thick files, each full of the monthly reports that Jorall had to write for the Jarl. Above that again, sat a half full bottle of the finest Colovian Brandy, and several pristine glasses. The Brandy was only brought out on the specialist of occasions, and even then the Rangers only had one glass each.

Jorall sat down at the desk, and his deputy stood facing him. "So, Jorall, what's the plan for the rest of the day?"

"Hmmm," Jorall mused "We could go and speak to Lod about that thing Cyrus brought up earlier. The rains mostly off now and it's only ten."

"Sounds like a plan"

The two stood up, and were halfway down the hall when they heard the front door burst open. Kjeld appeared in the hallway, out of breath, and with a strange, haunted look. Immediately, Jorall knew something was wrong.

"What is it, Kjeld? What's happened?" said Jorall.

Kjeld looked up at his Head Ranger and panted a little. He was shaking slightly.

"It's Andir, he's… he's dead" Both Jorall and Arnskar's eyes widened at this. "The house was all smashed up, and there was blood everywhere," Kjeld continued " I didn't look around, I came here as quickly as I could."

"Oh, by Shor..." sighed Jorall "To think I was talking to him only yesterday…"

At this moment the door burst open again, and Cyrus stepped inside. "Cyrus!" exclaimed Arnskar "What are you doing back?"

"I saw Kjeld running down the road, so I knew something was wrong. What is it?"

"It's Andir," growled Jorall, "He's dead" Cyrus said nothing, just stared at the floor. 2Kjeld, you said the house was a mess?" asked Jorall.

"Yeah, shelves overturned blood everywhere. And the body had a lot of wounds. I think he… I think he may have been murdered."

"Hmm. Sounds like it." Muttered Arnskar." Didn't he say he heard footsteps and voices?" Jorall nodded.

"Alright," said he said "Arnskar, you stay here with Kjeld. Get him something to drink. Cyrus, you and I are going to go and investigate this. Kjeld, is there anything else we should know?" Kjeld shook his head. "Alright. Cyrus, come on."

**Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed!**


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